


mornings of gold and valentine evenings

by ddoie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Labyrinth Fusion, Caretaking, Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, Labyrinth References, M/M, The Labyrinth is Conscious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:54:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddoie/pseuds/ddoie
Summary: doyoung is lost in the labyrinth, desperately trying to find his way home. his only problem is that king taeil doesn't like to play fair, especially when the last thing he wants is for doyoung to leave.





	1. makes no sense for you (the thrill is gone)

**Author's Note:**

> this is an au based off of the 1986 movie "labyrinth" with david bowie and jennifer connelly. i'd definitely recommend watching it because it's a great movie, but it's not necessary to read this fic ! *edited 06/23/19 for case change + minor edits*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _what do you dream of, love_  
>  _when you're all alone and tired_  
>  _lay your weary head down to rest_  
>  _listen to me, precious boy, i know best_  
>  _dream of me tonight, little love_

The ballroom is extravagant, with crystal chandeliers and reflective walls. Iridescent light bounces off of the crystals, blurring his vision and making him stumble into the dense crowd. Doyoung feels as if everything is moving so slowly, as if he’s underwater and it’s making him clumsy and disoriented. The music is muffled and too loud, all at once. Doyoung can’t quite place the melody, but it still reverberates in his ears, pounding in his head. Unconsciously, he whimpers and curls his broad shoulders forward.

He’s surrounded by new people in scary masks and elaborate costumes, who all seem to be ignoring his presence. His gown, strewn with pearls and silver gems, catches on someone’s foot and he falls forward, unable to catch himself. His jeweled hair pieces clang noisily as they drop onto the ground. Still, no one looks at him, curled up in the middle of the dancefloor. They easily waltz around him, aloof gazes ignoring the mess of a boy beneath them.

Doyoung feels wetness fill his eyes, an uncomfortable heat spreading across his face as he blushes in embarrassment. He’s made a fool of himself and no one can even be bothered to spare him a glance. It’s as if he doesn’t even exist, unimportant and irrelevant.

Frightened and humiliated, Doyoung covers his face and sobs quietly, trying to gather his gown around himself to appear smaller. He does not want to be here any longer.

“Oh dear.” He hears someone, a man, murmur close to his ear. Doyoung freezes, unable to decide whether he’s relieved to have finally been acknowledged or even more distraught that someone’s noticed his tantrum. He hastily wipes his tears away, but warm hands press his own back down when he tries to uncover his face.

“I think it’s best that you stay like this for a bit longer, hm?” A gentle voice coaxes, soothing and quiet. “You were crying because everything’s just too much, isn’t it? You must have been so scared, little one. Let’s keep you hidden away for a while more.”

Doyoung sniffles and nods, accepting the stranger’s help as he helps him up, steadying him with firm hands on his shoulders. Absently, he notices that the man has to reach up to do so. The man must be much shorter than him, perhaps only reaching his shoulder. Doyoung hazily thinks that he doesn’t mind being called little one, even by a man smaller than himself. The name makes something warm curl in his chest.

“I would like for you to dance with me.” The man’s hands slip down to his waist and draw him nearer. Doyoung feels warm puffs of air on his collarbone whenever the man speaks. “Let me show you how a prince should be treated, dear.” Doyoung is instantly shy at the sweet words, but allows himself to be led into a slow waltz. Although it’s a bit awkward with his hands still covering his eyes, he’s not nearly as clumsy now that he has someone to guide him.

“I’m not a prince, though,” Doyoung mumbles. The darkness he sees is almost comforting now. All he has to do is listen to the music and let the man carefully dance them across the room. He finds himself being soothed by the rhythm and sways closer to his partner.

“No?” the man croons. He laughs when he sees Doyoung’s lips purse in a small pout. “Your dress is so pretty, little one, and your tiara is awfully sparkly. You certainly look like a prince.” Doyoung grumbles quietly, grateful that his hands cover his pink cheeks.

The music gradually slows to a quiet and Doyoung comes back to himself, realizing that he’s moved close enough to rest his head against the man’s shoulder. Before he can apologize for being so bold, the man sighs and presses himself against Doyoung, warm and firm. There’s no space between them anymore.

“I don’t want to go back.” the silence is broken by Doyoung’s sulky tone. He doesn’t quite remember where he was before this, but it couldn’t have been very nice. He much prefers staying here now, dancing to pretty music with a kind man.

“I don’t want you to either,” the man says quietly. Even still, he slowly pulls away from Doyoung, leaving the boy cold and alone. He presses two soft kisses to the backs of Doyoung’s palms, finally stepping away.

“I’ll see you soon, Doyoung. I’ll miss you until then, little prince.”

Doyoung finally takes his hands away from his eyes, but there is no ballroom, no man with a soft voice and a firm grip. Instead, Doyoung is met with giant hills of garbage and a blood orange sky.

He can feel that overwhelming sense of loss and confusion once again, as if he’s missing something so very important. A part of him wants to curl up and cry again, but another part tells him that no one will come to soothe an upset boy in an old junkyard. It tells him that dreams are truly only dreams and even with how grand this one was, it is already fleeting from his memory.

Doyoung sighs and starts walking. Perhaps being stranded among piles of old, useless things is more fitting than he’d like to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be updated in episodic chapters !  
> [twit](https://twitter.com/mmoontaeil_)


	2. there's such a fooled heart (beating so fast)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _you're so sad, little boy_  
>  _come here to me, little boy_  
>  _i'll hold you so close, so dear_  
>  _and keep your precious heart so very near_  
>  _come here to me, little boy_

Doyoung walks through the door and out of the junkyard and everything is the same, from the dolls on his wall to the clutter that decorates his desk. Doyoung holds his breath, tears threatening to spring to his eyes, and stumbles to his bed.  _ His bed. _ The one that he’s had since he was young, with his patchwork quilts and warm blankets. It smells like his childhood, vanilla and honey and talc powder.

 

The nostalgia and familiarity settle into his bones and he finally breathes again, collapsing onto the sheets and sobbing a wet gasp into his pillow. Doyoung hugs his blanket to his chest and tries to ignore the deep ache in his chest. No matter how hard he tries, the tears won’t stop. He’s painfully aware of how out of control he is and easily recognizes the panic that twists in his stomach, ugly and taunting. Doyoung isn’t quite there anymore, distant and trapped in his thoughts, but he can hear Haechan tsk and mutter lowly.

 

“What a sight you are, you poor thing,” Haechan simpers. He shakes his head, cans and stray bits of trash clinking against each other with the movement. Doyoung only hides his face deeper into his pillow and pulls his blanket over his head. Embarrassment floods through him when he realizes that he must look like a bratty child throwing a tantrum. 

 

Haechan sighs. He starts pacing around the room and all of the items hanging from his clothes clang noisily. It’s loud enough to hurt Doyoung’s ears and he whimpers quietly, tears springing to his eyes. He wishes the noise would stop. “You’d think with how giant you are, you’d have some backbone in there somewhere. Aren’t you glad to be home, hm? Why are you crying like that, stupid boy?”

 

The thing is, Doyoung  _ is  _ happy. There’s just so many things he’s feeling and it’s too much and he’s  _ hurting _ but can’t even remember why. He starts crying harder, loud wails and sobs filling the room.

 

“That’s enough of that, Haechan,” a smooth voice interrupts. “Don’t torment the poor boy, he’s already upset. In fact, you’re leaving right now. Go, before I banish you to the-” There’s another round of noise as trash knocks together but the sound fades along with Haechan’s muttered insults.

 

The bed shifts as someone sits next to Doyoung, settling close to his curled up figure. A warm hand, small and strong, begins to rub slow circles on his back. The man next to him begins humming a simple tune, soothing Doyoung until he’s only sniffling quietly. Doyoung hesitantly pokes his head out of his blanket and rolls onto his side. He moves very slowly because he feels all floaty and a little sleepy.

 

Doyoung looks at the man curiously. He has blonde hair that’s styled up high and pretty makeup with lots of glitter. His outfit is loud and colorful, nearly obnoxious, but Doyoung thinks it looks fun. A glance at the man’s face reveals kind eyes and an indulgent smile. Something tugs at doyoung’s mind, maybe a memory, but he brushes it off and buries his head in the man’s thigh instead. He doesn’t know the nice-looking man, but he makes Doyoung feel warm and safe.

 

“My head hurts lots,” Doyoung murmurs, tone edging on whining. He nuzzles closer. Can you make me feel better?” The man’s hand on his back pauses and Doyoung follows easily as the man carefully lifts him. 

 

With his hands under Doyoung’s arms, the man settles him on his lap so Doyoung’s head is leaning comfortably against his shoulder. Doyoung seems to be much taller than the man, his legs folded on either side of the man’s thighs. As another wave of dizziness hits him, Doyoung realizes that his question hasn’t been answered. He pouts and sways back, meeting the man’s amused gaze. 

 

“Please,” Doyoung adds, remembering his manners. “Can you make me feel better,  _ please _ ?”

 

The man laughs and cradles Doyoung’s head to his chest, running his hands through short strands. Doyoung’s eyes fall shut as he’s rocked from side to side and he loses himself in the steady rhythm.

 

“Of course I will. I can’t stand seeing you in pain, Doyoung. I’ll make it all better,” the man whispers, obviously conscious of Doyoung’s headache. Doyoung thinks that that’s very considerate and trusts the man a little more. He seems to care about Doyoung an awful lot.

 

“Can I rest here for a little?” Doyoung slurs. He knows he must sound funny, but the man doesn’t laugh at him. Instead, he strokes Doyoung’s hair and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. Doyoung hums in contentment. The man smiles warmly, adoration in his eyes.

 

“You can stay forever, if you’d like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be updated in episodic chapters !  
> [twit](https://twitter.com/mmoontaeil_)


	3. between the stars (i'll leave my love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _you're so lovely, little boy_  
>  _will you stay as close as can be?_  
>  _in this warm little hideaway_  
>  _made for just you and me?_  
> 

Doyoung holds his mug of warm, honeyed milk in cupped hands and leans back against Taeil’s firm chest. He’s bigger than Taeil, so he’d had to slump and twist a little. He had nervously told Taeil that he was too tall, too big to be held even as he curled into the smaller man’s warmth, but his worries were met with a soft laugh and gentle hands guiding him down until he was tucked in, warm and cozy.

 

“Are you feeling better now, Doyoung?” Taeil asks quietly, rubbing Doyoung’s tummy gently. Doyoung takes one more sip of his milk and nods, whining a bit until Taeil understands and sets the mug on the bedside table. 

 

Doyoung and Taeil are all bundled up in Doyoung’s bed, his soft quilt tucked around them. Taeil had dug up some candles because Doyoung had told him that the bright light hurt his head even more, and now the entire room smells like vanilla and peaches. Doyoung likes how safe and warm he feels now. He’d been a little scared when he was by himself with that trash monster, but now that Taeil is with him, he feels much better. Taeil gives good hugs and had sung Doyoung to sleep earlier, which means he must be very nice!

 

“Mhm! Thank you for the treat, Mister.” Doyoung says shyly with a smile. He turns in Taeil’s hold until he’s sitting sideways so he’s able to look at the man’s face. He cradles Taeil’s face between his hands, giggling at the man’s silly expression. 

 

“Are you sure your name is just Taeil?” Doyoung asks playfully. Taeil hums, encouraging Doyoung to continue. “Because...you look like a king!” He squishes Taeil’s cheeks and Taeil laughs quietly, reaching up to gently tug Doyoung’s hands away so he can hold them.

 

Doyoung doesn’t quite know why he’s acting so... _ silly _ , he thinks is the word. He’s usually very quiet and serious, or at least he thinks he is! Everything from before his headache is a bit fuzzy, so he doesn’t try to think too hard about it. He thinks that maybe he’s being silly because Taeil  _ lets _ him play with him. He’d probably not played much before. Taeil’s quiet voice tugs him out of his thoughts. 

 

“I  _ am _ a king, I suppose,” Taeil muses, rubbing small circles on the inside of Doyoung’s wrists with his thumbs. The gentle touch makes him shiver and the corners of Taeil’s lips rise in a grin. “I’m the king of some very scary monsters, though, Doyoung. Are you sure you want to stay with me?”

 

Taeil’s question catches him off guard. What does Taeil mean? Doyoung doesn’t think he has anywhere else to go and he doesn’t really  _ want _ to leave. This is his room, with all his special things that he’s always known. He doesn’t want to leave his teddy bears and notebooks and trinkets behind. He can’t imagine having to walk through that endless junkyard again, all by himself. Doyoung doesn’t know where he’d go and the thought of leaving inspires a cold fear to spread throughout his chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe and Doyoung looks to Taeil, panic written across his face. 

 

“Shh, calm down now, dear. I’m sorry. I think I upset you a bit, didn’t I?” Taeil gentles him down easily, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. He rocks Doyong from side to side again, just like he had done before. He pets Doyoung’s hair, long strokes from the top of his head to the base of his neck, humming a soothing lullaby. 

 

“I don’t want to leave,” Doyoung says shakily, clinging to Taeil’s shoulders. “It’s scary and lonely out there. Please don’t make me leave, Taeil!” Taeil hushes him gently, cradling Doyoung even closer. 

 

“I know, I know,” Taeil soothes. “You can stay right here, Doyoung. I promised you that you could stay forever, remember? Does that sound nice, dear? Just you and me and all your nice things?” Doyoung nods tearfully and buries his face in Taeil’s neck to hide his tears. 

 

Doyoung knows that he just met Taeil, but the man feels so familiar to him. He’s so steady and warm, soothing Doyoung with a few soft words and gentle touches. He knows exactly what Doyoung needs, whether that be a warm glass of milk or murmured reassurances, and the boy can already feel himself getting attached. If Doyoung dwells on it long enough, which he can’t without that dull headache coming back, it’s as if he’s known Taeil for a very long time. He sniffles and rubs his tears away with his sleeve. He raises his head and sees Taeil smiling at him encouragingly, like he’s proud of Doyoung for calming down so quickly. Doyoung’s face feel hot and he knows there must be pink dusted across his cheeks.

 

“If-If you’re a king,” Doyoung mumbles cutely, tugging the hem of Taeil’s shirt in one of his hands, wanting to be closer. “Then can I be your prince? I want to stay here with you, please.”  Surprise flashes across Taeil’s face before melting into fond amusement. He nuzzles his nose against Doyoung’s shoulder, humming in agreement.

 

“Ah, you’re so precious, Doyoung,” Taeil sighs happily. Doyoung giggles quietly and hugs Taeil as best as he can in his position.  “My own little prince.”

**Author's Note:**

> this will be updated in episodic chapters !  
> [twit](https://twitter.com/mmoontaeil_)


End file.
